Page 111 of Tempting Wyatt

“It’s like taking a bath together,” I say, my voice soft and low as he allows me to rub against him like a cat in heat.

“Ivy,” he murmurs, voice rough.

“Yeah?” I breathe.

“What are you doing to me, woman?”

“Everything,” I whisper.

My lips brush his, and then he’s kissing me. Hard. Deep. Thoroughly. Like he’s been holding back for too long, and finally—finally—he’s letting go and giving in.

His hands pull at my waist, yanking me against him, the heat of his body turning the water between us into something electric. Something shocking and dangerous.

I whimper in pleasure, and his mouth claims mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sweeping against mine, like he’s intent on learning every inch of me. I melt into him, gripping his shoulders, nails biting into firm muscle as he groans into my mouth. The sound sends a shiver down my spine, pooling heat low in my stomach.

He tastes like whiskey and something purely Wyatt—something heady, something sweet that burns at the same time because it will hurt later.

I’m drunk and dizzy with each stroke of his tongue. When we break apart to breathe, both of us panting, he presses his forehead to mine, his hands still gripping me, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

He’s not inside me, like my body wants, but this is pretty damn close. I grind myself up and down against him, lightning sparking through me with each stroke of him against my most sensitive parts. My legs clamp around him as my clit jerks and twitches, and I come quickly from the feel of him. And just like that, the teasing is gone.

He kisses me while I break apart against him, swallowing each moan of pleasure and claiming me with everything he has.

And I let him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

wyatt

ONCE WE MAKE IT UP the mountain, Ivy shifts in her saddle beside me, tilting her head back to take in the view. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, lips parted, like she’s about to say something, but can’t quite find the words.

The wind tugs at her hair, loose waves dancing in the fading afternoon sun, and I have to look away before I do something stupid. Like lean across the space between our horses, pull her to me, and beg her not to leave in a few days.

Instead, I clear my throat and nod toward the valley stretching out before us. “So, this is it.”

“You weren’t lying. The ride was rough over the mountainous terrain, but it’s beautiful.” She exhales sharply. “One thousand percent worth it.”

That about sums it up.

We’re at the highest point on the ranch—the summit. The place where the land rolls wide and untamed, the only place you can see the third river carve its way through the valley below before winding its way to meet up with the other two. The place where my great-grandfather stood all those yearsago and decided this was home. Decided he’d stake his life and his family’s lives on securing it for future generations of Logans.

Up here I can feel it, the strength of the blood that runs through my veins. The connections to ancestors who were probably stubborn and determined like me.

Up here I remember why I work so hard to hold onto this place. Because if I falter, if I lose it, I know what that will mean for the land and for my family.

I watch Ivy as she takes it in, the way she soaks it all up, like she’s trying to memorize it. Like she feels a sacred connection to this place too.

“Triple Creek Ranch,” I say, nudging my horse forward a little so I can glance at her. “Now you know why it’s named that.”

“You can’t see the third river from down there,” she says softly. “Finally earned the ancient Logan family secret.” Her voice is full of reverence and I know Isaac was right about bringing her up here.

I nod toward where the creeks meet below us. “Native Americans settled here long before my family ever did. They believed places where rivers came together held power. Connection. Something sacred.” I pause, watching the sunlight dance on the water. “When my great-grandfather first saw this place, it had been deserted for years, was overgrown and over run with the wildness of nature. Everyone told him he was crazy when he put up every penny he had to purchase it. Said it would never be workable or profitable. But he said the rivers running through it reminded him of family—how people can go their own way, get lost for a while, but eventually. . . they run back together.”

Ivy is quiet for a long moment, her gaze locked on the valley below. When she turns to me, her eyes are downcast.

“What’s wrong?”

On an inhale, she forces her lips into an attempt at a smile. “I’ve never had that. Family. Connection.”